They're safe,'' he said. "And you're not made of glass". He swept me up in his arms. I laughed. "And I'm not made of glass." He carried me into our room and kicked the door shut behind us.

One doesn't lose a self, like a pair of gloves or a pine. We learn and change, or we harden into stone.

Despite how entertaining certain stories were, at the bottom of every item of gossip there was someone getting hurt.

Except. What is normal at any given time? We change just as the seasons change, and each spring brings new growth. So nothing is ever quite the same.

Why did I laugh at his sorry, bedraggled appearance? Because ridiculousness made a repellant situation more bearable.

Why is it the songs all end with the good people winning, but in life they don't?" They don't make songs when the good lose," I muttered. "They make war chants against the bad. So there won't be any songs for us.

Finally someone takes me seriously enough to ask for my word of honor, and it’s a villain.